Dear Iris [h.s]

chapter thirty five.

Iris Grace

This morning I was commissioned this huge landscape piece for a family and I was so excited that I started right away. I sketched the whole thing out, which took me just over an hour because it's in such a huge canvas and there's so much detail in it. I'm so excited to try it though.

I was mixing some colours up, which I used to hate doing, I found it so boring but I love it now. I do get absolutely covered in paint though, but that's exactly why the clothes I have here are never worn  for anything other than painting. I ruin new clothes all the bloody time , which is kind of frustrating.

This painting is huge, and uses so much paint, and it's for a very well off family. I don't think I've done a painting like this in so long. They were willing to pay a lot of money for it too, the deposit alone costs almost the same as a smaller painting of mine.

Then there was a knock at my door, right as I was standing with half mixed blue paint and probably a good chunk of everything I mixed up all over my hands. Repeatedly mumbling 'shit' as if it would help, I tossed my palette down and wiped my hands on the denim of my dungarees, which didn't help at all but I ran to the door and took a deep breath before opening. I'd try to look put together, but that would be way too out of character for me.

"Hi." I said, opening the door with a smile, only to realise it was Harry and Harper standing there. "Oh, hi Harper, and Harry."

"Hi Iris." Harper said with a grin, waving her hands up at me.

I stepped aside, allowing them to come in and Harry just gave me a friendly smile as he walked by me. Harper looked at my paintings and then the blank canvas with nothing but pencil marks on it. It always makes me smile seeing her in awe of art, I like how people are still appreciative of art, even at six years old.

"Tell Iris about school Haps," Harry said, leaning against the wall with his arms folded and a smile on his face as Harper looked up at me with a smile.

"We were painting, and I want to be a painter when I grow up." Harper explained. "I painted a butterfly, but it wasn't good like your paintings."

"What?" I exclaimed in shock with such a wide grin on my face, crouching down to her level. "I'm sure it was amazing Harper."

"And..." Harper chipped in, slowly walking over with his hands in his pocket, sitting on the couch behind Harper. "What were you going to ask Iris?"

"Could you paint me a butterfly maybe one day?" She asked me shyly, "Please."

Harry was smiling, Harper was too. Honestly, it melted my heart that she had thought of me at all to be honest. She's so sweet and I'd paint a million butterflies for her if I could. It just makes me happy that there are people out there who are genuinely interested in what I do.

Harper would make a good artist, she's got such a sweet soul and I believe that's what makes an artist. Sure you can be talented, but you've got to be nice and definitely have thick skin. All people do is talk shit about artists, yet when they want a new picture for their living rooms, they act like they care, but hey, that's just part of life i guess.

"Of course!" I exclaimed, "I'll paint you a butterfly, course I will!"

Harper looked back at Harry with a smile on her face, then turned back and said thank you a million times. I think their relationship is the cutest thing on the planet. They're best friends, you can tell just by looking at them. I'd have killed to have a girl brother like Harry when I was her age, she's really lucky.

Harry was smiling away to himself, eyes full of pride as he looked at Harper. I caught eyes with him and suddenly became nervous, conscious of every splatter of paint on me and every out of place hair on my head. He grinned a little wider when we made eye contact, let out a little chuckle as he looked away and shook his head.